


It's a Date

by maladroitcore



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Arguing, Developing Relationship, First Dates, Getting Together, M/M, Making Up, Pre-Relationship, Victuuri Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9677192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maladroitcore/pseuds/maladroitcore
Summary: Yuuri and Victor keep going on dates, not that either of them are calling them that.(set sometime during/after/around the general vicinity of ep 4)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was something I started writing some weeks before, but since my original plans for day 6 weren’t falling together I decided to reappropriate it for Victuuri week. it's a little sloppy since I had to throw it together so quickly ;;
> 
> this is for the prompt Victor: communication

After Yuuri’s free skate program is settled, the rest of the summer days settle into an easy rhythm— skating, conditioning, more skating, ballet sessions, and even more skating, punctuated by meals and rest days and time spent helping out at Yu-topia. And Victor’s part of that rhythm too, intertwined with all aspects of Yuuri’s life from dawn to dusk.

It’s both surreal and not— if he doesn’t think about it too hard, it’s almost like Victor didn’t just fly in from St. Petersburg only a few months ago. Like he’s been there, in Hasetsu, forever, and in some ways, he has. He’d always been there on Yuuri’s bedroom wall and he’d always been there in Yuuri and Yuuko’s conversations and skating sessions and he’d always been on Yuuri’s mind as he shakily made his way through local and national level competitions.

Unfortunately, thinking too hard about the fact that Victor is now  _ actually there _ has become Yuuri’s new specialty. Sure, it’s all too easy to just accept Victor’s presence. It’s all too easy for Yuuri to subtly lean into his touches, quietly try to ask for more without making it obvious.

Yet, there’s other times where all Yuuri can do is try not to think too much about Victor’s warmth and the clock silently counting down to when he returns to Russia.

On these evenings, it’s tough to even talk to Victor and even tougher to respond to his advances— and Yuuri knows that’s what his lingering touches and soft smiles are supposed to be, has known almost since he first arrived in the wake of April’s snowstorm. Yuuri’s just unsure what any of it is supposed to mean and that uncertainty is enough to really keep him from asking about it.

To be fair, he’s not even sure if  _ Victor _ knows what it’s supposed to mean, if his insistence that he’s there to coach Yuuri (and coaches definitely aren’t supposed to flirt so overtly with their students) is any indication.

He just tries to accept it as just another one of the weird new facts of his life: Victor lives in Hasetsu, Victor sleeps in the room next to his, Victor’s poodle sometimes commandeers half of Yuuri’s already small bed, and Victor enjoys flirting with Yuuri like nobody’s business. Even if Yuuri doesn’t always manage a good response, or even any response at all, which is almost (but not quite) a relief. Unlike Victor’s early passes which had demanded a response (a full-speed retreat, a “no”, a “no comment”), whatever exists between them now doesn’t always need a real answer.

Some evenings, Victor practically drapes himself over Yuuri’s lap after he finishes his meal and all Yuuri has to do is sit back and let it happen. If he’s feeling particularly bold, he can even run his hand through Victor’s hair, start an easy conversation, and try to ignore Mari sticking her head out from the kitchen just to roll her eyes at them.

…he’s definitely not feeling bold this evening. Victor casually rests his head on Yuuri’s lap and that’s already enough to turn his face bright red.

With Victor’s head occupying his lap, Yuuri has to awkwardly angle his torso in order to finish off the last of his meal. Makkachin has padded over and rested her head in Victor’s lap, creating an awkward triangle between their three separate bodies. When Yuuri finally finishes his bowl, he carefully sets it down away from the edge of the table to make sure it doesn’t (somehow) tip over onto Victor’s face.

“Yuuri, we should go on a trip to Fukuoka sometime.” Victor shifts a little in Yuuri’s lap; he’s aimlessly scrolling through his Instagram feed with his right hand and gently patting Makkachin with his left. It’s really not clear why he’s thinking about Fukuoka. “You can show me around, right?”

Yuuri’s actually not sure if he can. He’d never been intimately familiar with the city in the first place, it’s been years since he’s been there, and who knows how the Fukuoka cityscape has changed. There would be a decent chance that they would get lost unless they relied on the wonders of modern tech, yet using a GPS to guide Victor around hardly seemed like a proper tour of the city.

( _ It’s fine if we don’t use a GPS though _ , he thinks.  _ Getting lost together in Fukuoka wouldn’t be that bad _ .)

“Sure,” he responds. He’s not feeling bold at all, but his hand moves to stroke Victor’s hair anyway. “Let’s go to Fukuoka.”

Victor hums excitedly and shifts again to wrap his arms around Yuuri’s waist, even momentarily pressing his nose and lips against the fabric of Yuuri’s shirt. He can feel his flush getting worse by the second as Victor starts babbling about all the things he wants to check out in Fukuoka. The fact that none of the patrons of the onsen even acknowledge Victor’s embarrassingly public affection now is almost worse than the staring that it had attracted barely a few months ago.

Yuuri is dimly aware that this ‘trip to Fukuoka’ is indistinguishable from a date. Like how that time Victor insisted on actually visiting the castle’s ninja house with him had been indistinguishable from a date. Or like how that other time where Victor had dragged him to around half of Hasetsu’s restaurants to try a little bit of everything— even pushed Yuuri to break the dietary restrictions that Victor himself had set— had been indistinguishable from a date. Or the time he’d impulsively dragged Victor to the beach in the middle of Makkachin’s daily walk— that was  _ definitely _ indistinguishable from a date, and he couldn’t even blame Victor for that one.

He faintly wonders when they’re going to actually start calling their outings ‘dates’.  _ If _ they’re going to ever start calling their outings ‘dates’.

“When do you want to go, Yuuri?” Victor asks, his eyes wide as he stares up at Yuuri. He slowly pulls himself out of his thoughts and tries to think of an answer.  _ Now _ , he wants to say.  _ Tomorrow. As soon as possible. _ He can’t say that though— it crosses some kind of line that he’s tried not to cross, as close as he and Victor have gotten over the past months. More than anything, he has to get everything he can out of Victor’s coaching, or he’s going to lose the already short amount of time they have.

Victor purses his lips when Yuuri doesn’t respond. “We were going to take a rest day the coming Sunday,” he decides. He’s tapping his phone now, marking off the date on his calendar. “Let’s go to Fukuoka then. We can spend tonight planning.” Victor rests his phone on the floor next to him and settles back into his awkward hold around Yuuri’s waist.

They lapse back into silence. Around them, the patrons of the inn start to shout as the baseball game on the TV picks up, only to settle down with a collective grumble when one of the runners gets put out.

Eventually, Victor lets go of his waist. He even moves off of Yuuri’s lap to prop himself up in a half-sitting position, pensively watching Yuuri all the while.

“What are you thinking about?” Victor murmurs. He turns his face away and takes to petting Makkachin, who’s still nestled in his lap. Yuuri finds his own eyes have gotten stuck staring at the nape of Victor’s neck poking out from his jinbei.

He’s not sure why Victor’s asking.

“It’s going to mess up your jumps later if you don’t talk about it,” Victor says coldly, in an unsolicited answer. For a second, Yuuri misses the warmth that had been in Victor’s voice as he’d waxed poetic about the wonders of Fukuoka and clung to Yuuri’s waist and looked up at him with something close to affection in his eyes.

_ Of course that’s why _ , Yuuri thinks, barely biting back the urge to spit the thought out at Victor. Victor, who’s looking away from him and pushing Yuuri to open his own heart while he can barely understand what’s in Victor’s.

Yuuri says something else instead. “What are you thinking about then, Victor?”

“About you.”

Yuuri’s heart jumps. “What?”

“And how you won’t tell me what you’re thinking about, Yuuri.”

He’s pouting now, petulant and stubborn. Yuuri feels more disappointment, tightening around his throat and chest. “Victor, what are you actually thinking about?”

“I am thinking about you,” Victor insists, flopping back onto the floor. (He very intentionally misses Yuuri’s lap.) He doesn’t elaborate on why, or what about him, and it’s enough to make Yuuri’s frustration boil over. His hands clench uselessly in his lap.

“I’m thinking about you too, then. Why do you want to go to Fukuoka?” It’s a poor placeholder for what he actually wants to ask.  _ Why me? I still don’t understand why you’re here. You could be anywhere else and you decided to be with me. _ There’s some days where he can just accept that, where he can even take pride in having been able to take Victor from the world. Today, he’s just left bewildered by what Victor could possibly see in him.

“I haven’t ever been to Fukuoka before,” Victor mumbles. “I didn’t have the time before. And I want to go with you, so let’s go to Fukuoka.”

It barely even answers the question he asked, much less the ones he didn’t ask. Before Yuuri can try to ask again though, Victor abruptly gets up from the floor, mutters a quick “good night”, and leaves the dining area.

\---

Victor refuses to open the door to his room that night, even though Yuuri can clearly hear him moving around inside. Yuuri belatedly realizes that they’re having an argument, apparently.

He wants to kick himself for even taking Victor’s offer to go to Fukuoka seriously, for even thinking that maybe it would be like a date after all.

\---

Morning practice the next day is tense. Both of them try to keep yesterday’s argument away from their skating, but it seeps in anyways. Victor’s advice is terse, and he barely even touches Yuuri for the entirety of practice. For his part, Yuuri’s step sequences have a biting anger at their edges; eros and love are far from his mind, even as he tries to channel them into his short program.

Victor was right about jumps. Yuuri misses a staggering number of them and gains half a dozen new bruises. They have to end practice early, and he can’t help but feel like he’s failed Victor by letting their personal argument get in the way of their professional relationship.

“We should have talked earlier,” Victor mumbles as they exit the Ice Castle. He takes Yuuri’s hand ( _ surprising, weren’t we arguing _ ) and marches away, roughly pulling Yuuri behind him.

“Victor?”

“We’re talking.” Yuuri lets himself get pulled along.

They end up seated on the bench in the clearing below the Ice Castle, bodies turned towards each other with a safe distance of ten centimeters between them. Victor is now holding both of Yuuri’s hands in his own, their fingers loosely clasped together. Yuuri studies Victor. There isn’t any tension in the lines of his face, but his eyes are turned downwards to look at their hands and away from Yuuri, his shoulders look slightly stiff in their posture, and there’s a slight frown pulling at his lips.

“Sorry. Your performance today was my fault. I should have been a better coach.”

It’s not really what he wants to hear. The ‘sorry’ in particular sounds awkward and heavy on Victor’s tongue, almost like he hasn’t used the word genuinely in a while. ( _ And he probably hasn’t _ , Yuuri thinks, considering all the flippant, almost meaningless ‘sorry’s that Victor used whenever he’d forgotten something. Maybe it came with being the king of figure skating. Not having to say sorry.)

“Really?”

“Of course. You’ve been nothing but wonderful as a student, Yuuri.”

Student. Coach. That’s what he and Victor are, but it has almost nothing to do with their argument. “Victor, is that really what you want to say?”

Victor gulps before letting out a weak laugh. “I guess not.”

They fall into silence. Ever since their talk at the beach, Yuuri’s gotten better at picking out when Victor is being genuine and when he’s acting a role. He appreciates that Victor has listened, has stopped trying to play to Yuuri’s expectations and instead has just tried to act as himself. Still, there’s times where Victor defaults to their professional relationship instead. Now that some time has passed, Yuuri can see that was probably what happened during their argument.

He focuses on breathing in and out, steadying his thoughts. “You asked me what I was thinking? Yesterday?”

Victor startles for a moment before collecting himself, straightening his shoulders and gently adjusting his fingers underneath Yuuri’s. “Yes.”

“I really was thinking about you,” Yuuri mumbles, absentmindedly running a thumb over one of Victor’s knuckles. “And why we’re going to Fukuoka. Is it…”  _ A date? Why are you doing this if you’re going to leave anyway? You are going to leave, right? Eventually? _

“It’s whatever you want it to be, Yuuri,” Victor replies, a wry grin finally settling onto his face. “… I would say that, but then you’d give me trouble.”

“I wouldn’t.” He would. “So, what did you want it to be?”

“A date. Would you give me the honor of taking you on a date?” He’s teasing a bit, his eyes are crinkling at the corners with a hint of mirth, his fingers are now intertwined with Yuuri’s in a sweet romantic gesture.

“Is that what we’ve been doing?”  _ Of course that’s what we’ve been doing. Just make it clear that I’m not the only one who thought that. _

Victor’s smile slips. “Of course, Yuuri. Unless…“

Yuuri tries not to smirk. “No, no, it’s fine. I just needed to make sure.” He’s smirking. He’s definitely smirking, if not outright giggling at Victor’s shocked expression. “Did I get you, Victor?”

Victor sucks in a breath. “Yuuri, you tease.”

“But you love it, don’t you,” Yuuri fires back, and the resulting blush on Victor’s face makes the embarrassing statement worth it.  _ Oh, he does love it when I tease him _ , Yuuri thinks faintly, and he’s already storing the thought in the back of his head for later. “You love me, right?”

Oh. Shit. He didn’t mean to ask that, but the words are out now.

“You’re not asking that as a joke, right? I thought it was obvious that I do.” Victor’s pouting. Yuuri just ends up laughing harder. Why would he ever ask that as a joke? It isn’t like he’s fantasized about being Victor’s beloved for years now, and it isn’t like he’s fantasized about it even more now that Victor is living with him and flirting with him on a regular basis. Victor looks even more confused, but he gives Yuuri time to calm down from his laughing fit anyway. As the last few giggles make it out of his system, Yuuri can feel Victor’s fingers gently tapping against the side of his hand. Yuuri repositions their hands so that their fingers are intertwined again.

“So why me?”

“It’s because it’s you,” Victor says, the tone of his voice soft and even fond. He pauses for a moment before continuing. “It’s you and your skating and your dancing and your smile and… everything else. It’s not something I can really explain.” Another pause. “Sorry, Yuuri. I know you need a real explanation but nothing I can say would express everything. You’ve given me more than I could have ever wanted.”

It’s reassuring (and not). Victor’s there for him and just him, and apparently he’s more than Victor could have ever wanted. (But he’s never been enough.)

Victor doesn’t need to explain, though. It’s enough that Victor is here for him, nothing more and nothing less.

Yuuri doesn’t press the issue, says something else instead. “It’s… a date then? In Fukuoka?” He tightens his grip on Victor’s hands, looking for reassurance. Victor reciprocates the grip.

Victor smiles and the gentle curve of his lips almost makes Yuuri want to lean in and kiss him. “It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh the argument just.. happened ;; this started off as an introspective but then Yuuri and Victor started arguing so I figured "oh this is just. what's happening. okay I guess" so then I had to put some thought into the reasons they argue in canon. (it might still be a little off ;;;)
> 
> I didn't write the Fukuoka date, but I'd be willing to do some research and then write that if anybody's interested. additionally, if anybody would like to hear about my original day 6 plans so they can appropriate them and make them Happen, I would be very glad.
> 
> shout at/with me on tumblr @maladroitcore


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They plan the date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back, mostly bc a fic about Victor and Yuuri discussing a date is woefully incomplete w/o them actually going on the date, which I 100% did not have the time or knowledge to write when I was getting the first chapter ready for Victuuri Week.
> 
> consider this an interim chapter tho.

By evening, Victor is stuck to Yuuri’s side again. If anything, he’s even closer than usual— he’s wrapped one arm around so that his hand is placed on the curve of Yuuri’s waist, and his entire side is pressed flush against Yuuri. For his part, Yuuri has tilted his head to rest against Victor’s shoulder. It’s a comfortable return to intimacy, even if the situation also happens to have pushed Yuuri’s heart rate a tad faster than comfortable.

The act of actually eating dinner, however, is incredibly frustrating. Victor insists on eating with just one hand and keeping his other hand on Yuuri’s waist, while Yuuri can’t really move his elbows without jostling Victor. They’re always one unfortunate hand movement away from accidentally tipping food onto their laps.

“Did you two finally get together?” Mari deadpans as she walks past them on her way out to have her evening smoke.

Her statement is more direct than usual. Actually, it’s the first time she’s asked that specific question, and Yuuri has no idea if that’s because his sister’s intuition is just that good, or if it’s just an incredible coincidence. He tries to respond, tries to give his rehearsed speech about the matter, only to find his voice stuck in his throat.

“Yes! We’re together now,” Victor responds, easily. He pulls Yuuri even closer.

Mari’s footsteps come to a stop near the doorway. Yuuri can picture her expression without even looking— one eyebrow raised, mouth holding a faint impression of an amused smile. “Oh, is that so.” Still just as deadpan. “Well, good job, Yuuri.” She stops just short of saying,  _ Good job snagging the man you’ve crushed on for half of your life _ .

“Thank you,” Yuuri mumbles, for lack of any better response.  _ Don’t talk about the posters. _

She doesn’t. (A small blessing.) “And Victor… you better take care of my baby brother.”

Yuuri can feel Victor take a deep breath before he responds. “Of course. I’ll do my best.”

“Good. I’ll be out then.” She walks away without saying anything else.

Victor quickly nuzzles the top of Yuuri’s head.

“Victor, you answered so easily,” he mutters.

“Hmm?” Victor gently sets his chopsticks down, temporarily giving up on eating the rest of his food.

“Mari-neechan’s question,” Yuuri sighs. “I didn’t even know what to say.” Somehow, the reality of being with Victor hasn’t really set in. While he’d been sure his family would take the news with joy, part of him was convinced that the moment he told his family and made this new aspect of their complex relationship real, Victor would pull away and Yuuri would be left with nothing. Frankly, even if Victor had affirmed that he loved Yuuri, it would be greedy to assume that what they had was something so deep as to last.

Still, the words had come out from Victor’s mouth so easily. Yuuri lets himself relax a little more, places a little more confidence in his ability to seduce Victor and keep his attention.

Victor rests his cheek against the top of Yuuri’s head. “Yuuri, are you nervous right now?”

“Kind of.”

“Do you need me to do anything for you?”

“Not really.” He pauses, then gently nudges Victor. “Actually, you can give me some space to eat.”

With a soft laugh, Victor gets up. He immediately sits behind Yuuri instead, wrapping his arms back around Yuuri’s torso and resting his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Is this okay, Yuuri?” It really isn’t. The sound of Victor’s voice by his ear is doing  _ terrible _ things to his heart rate, not to mention that it’s still awkward to eat with Victor’s arms around his middle.

“I-it’s fine. Your pork cutlet bowl is going to get cold though, Victor.”

“Oh. That’s true.” Victor contemplates for a moment before continuing, his breath tickling Yuuri’s ear as he speaks. “I want to keep holding you though. Since we’re together now.”

This whole situation is definitely bad for his heart. “You can save it for later,” Yuuri says, finally moving to eat the rest of his vegetables. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere. We still need to plan for Fukuoka together.”

Victor hums contentedly. “So you’ll be sleeping with me tonight?”

Yuuri nearly chokes on a sprig of broccoli.  _ I walked right into that one _ , he thinks as he forces out a weak “yes.”

Victor finally lets go of him. He sits back down next to Yuuri and they finish their meal with their shoulders still pressed together.

\---

Victor heads to the baths early so he can get to his room first (‘ _ to get us set up _ ’, he explains). Yuuri pulls his mom aside as soon as they’re all done cleaning up the dining area. His dad, unfortunately, is nowhere to be found tonight— Yuuri will have to talk with him later. Mari has already bid them good night, casting him a glance before leaving for her room.

Now that he’s sitting down with Hiroko, Yuuri isn’t actually sure how to tell her about Victor. He remembers telling her about entering his first competition ever; he’d had the same difficulty then, too, and again when he’d had to tell her about leaving for Detroit. The apprehension is never really due to any fear of his mom’s reaction though— part of it is probably an extension of his general reservedness, but part of it is the fear of having to stick to a decision and the possibility that he’s set himself up for failure.

With skating, it was the possibility that he would never amount to anything in competition. With Detroit, it was the possibility that he would fall apart in college and that he wouldn’t be able to meet the world’s expectations.

And now, with Victor…

He fidgets as he tries to find the right words.

His mom breaks the silence. “Yuuri, what is it?” Her tone is even, calm, kind as always. Between her and his perpetually carefree father, Yuuri really has to wonder where his anxiety comes from.

He clenches his hands one last time before speaking. “I’m going on a date with Victor this Sunday. We’ll be in Fukuoka for the day.” A pause. “Victor and I are together.”

“Well,” she hums a little. The knowing smile on her face makes Yuuri wonder whether she’d seen this coming long before he had. “That’s good. He’s always made you happy.”

For a moment, Yuuri considers the impossibility of dating his childhood idol, Victor Nikiforov. The impossibility of dating the man who’s now so much more than a childhood idol, Victor.

He gulps. “Yeah.”

“Do you need me to take care of Makkachin for that day?”

“That would be great. Thank you.” He gets up. “Where’s Dad? I’ll have to tell him—“

“Don’t worry about it!” Hiroko exclaims. “I’ll talk with your dad about it when he comes back. You can go and plan your day out with Vicchan.”

She excitedly claps her hands together; her joy makes it seem like she’s the one going out on a date, and the emotion is like her gift to him. If she can be that happy about Yuuri’s date, then he can be happy too. Happy to have Victor’s time, here in the present.

He smiles. “Okay then. Thank you.”

She holds out her arms and Yuuri gratefully leans down to hug his mom.

\---

He soaks in the hot springs to further clear his mind and soothe out the aches in his body. His bruises from the morning practice session (Yuuri winces when he remembers all the times he’d collided with the ice) have started to take on a rather impressive shade of purple, and they ache slightly whenever he presses them.

He’s glad Victor’s not around to see them today in particular. The evidence of his weakness, his inability to separate his mental fragility from his skating.

Once he feels reasonably calm and relaxed, Yuuri carefully gets out, dries off, and pulls on the simple shirt and shorts that he usually wears to bed. His bruised knees are exposed though, so Yuuri stops by his room to swap out the shorts for the longer sweatpants that he usually saves for winter before heading to Victor’s room.

When Yuuri enters, there’s already a mess of papers and books on Victor’s bed and even on the floor, where Makkachin has started chewing on some of them. For some reason Victor’s repositioned the bust (the bust? Yuuri still had no idea why Victor even owned the generic marble bust, much less why he had to bring it to Hasetsu with him) to sit in the center of his bed. Victor himself is sitting ( _ shirtless _ , Yuuri’s mind unhelpfully notes) on one of the many pillows against the headboard, looking over a sheath of papers in his hand.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaims, brandishing the papers and then patting the space next to him. Yuuri follows the cue, carefully sitting down next to Victor and automatically leaning his head on Victor’s shoulder.

Victor startles for a second. Yuuri has the embarrassing realization that Victor hadn’t intended to start cuddling and pulls back immediately, then wonders if he shouldn’t have when Victor lets out a disappointed huff.

Victor gracefully tucks his legs in and spreads the papers out in front of them. “I already have a list of places to check out.” The array of papers includes print-outs of tourism websites, maps, and brochures in English and Japanese, as well as a marked-up list of places in Victor’s handwriting. The list is largely written in Russian, but there’s been some English hastily added so that Yuuri can actually read it.

“How did you have all this ready?” There was no way that Victor had prepared all of those papers just now.

Victor rests a finger against his lips and grins. “I may have been thinking about this for a while.”

“Really?” The urge to kiss Victor returns for a moment, worse than before now that they’re sitting together on his bed ( _ and he’s very shirtless _ , Yuuri’s mind adds again). Yuuri tries to pull his eyes away from the point where Victor’s finger is resting on his lips.

“Yes,” Victor chirps, reaching for his list and handing it over to Yuuri. “Yuuri, where do you want to go?”

_ We should just do away with the list _ , Yuuri wants to say. He’s still stuck on his weird fantasy of getting lost in the city with Victor. It’d be like one of those sappy rom coms Phichit had made him watch back in Detroit, the ones that seemed to comprise the half of Phichit’s taste in movies that wasn’t consumed by  _ The King and The Skater _ . He and Victor would have a passionate kiss with fireworks in the background and everything.

Realistically though, getting lost would probably end in disaster, and Yuuri can’t imagine kissing Victor in public. And there probably isn’t a fireworks display on Sunday, not that they would even be around late enough if there was. He starts to read through the list, running a finger along the lines of Victor’s writing.

“Fukuoka Castle?” There’s hearts drawn next to the words, and Yuuri remembers Victor’s awe when they’d visited the ninja house in Hasetsu Castle. Victor nods enthusiastically.

They spend the next half hour poring over the list, marking off the places that they both want to go. They have to discount a few places due to distance and time issues, but they manage to create a rough itinerary all the same. On Sunday, they’ll have to head out early to make the hour-long train trip to Fukuoka, where they’ll have the whole day to sightsee (and shop, Victor insists) before returning home in the evening.

Victor neatly folds up the paper and turns away to pin it down under one of the lamps next to his bed.

Yuuri decides to make his move before he can overthink it. As Victor turns back, Yuuri places his hands on Victor’s shoulders and abruptly pulls him closer so that their faces are centimeters apart. Almost close enough that he can feel Victor’s surprised gasp on his lips.

It takes a moment for him to speak. He’s blushing, but so is Victor.

“Victor. I really want to kiss you right now. Can I?”

“So bold, Yuuri,” Victor whispers. “How could I say no? Of course.”

It’ll be their first kiss. His first opportunity to show Victor his eros off the ice. Yuuri places one of his hands on the back of Victor’s neck, gently toying with a few strands of his silver hair. He slowly eases Victor back against the pillows of his bed. Victor’s hands come to rest against the small of his back, pulling Yuuri down with him. It takes a few moments for Yuuri to stop feeling breathless, positioned as he is over Victor, close enough that he can feel the rise and fall of Victor’s chest under his.

He rests his forehead against Victor’s and takes a few steadying breaths.

Just as Yuuri is about to press their lips together, Victor suddenly turns his face away and to the side. “Wait, wait, Yuuri—“

“What?” He has a fleeting moment of panic.  _ Does Victor actually not want this at all? _

“I’m going to forget to ask once we get started. Are your bruises okay? From morning practice.”

_ Oh. _

“Yeah. They’re fine.”

Victor breathes a short sigh of relief. “That’s good. I was worried.”

“O-okay.”

He’s still on top of Victor, but the moment is past. His boldness is gone, and it just feels awkward to kiss him now. Yuuri moves his face away from Victor’s and presses it against his shoulder instead, trying to ignore his bare collarbone.

“Weren’t you going to kiss me, Yuuri?” Victor sounds amused. Now that his moment of boldness has passed, Yuuri has half a mind to just leave and sleep in his own room tonight.

“Not feeling it anymore,” he mutters into Victor’s shoulder. Victor heaves an exaggerated sigh, and it makes Yuuri laugh a little. “If my bruises were an issue, I would have told you.”

“Hmm. You fell so much though. And your triple axels were lousy today.” Yuuri winces. Now that they’ve resolved their argument, apparently Victor doesn’t care to spare his feelings. “Also,—“

_ Oh god. He’s coaching _ . Yuuri has Victor pushed down against a bed and he’s coaching, of all things.

“Victor.”

Victor purrs. His voice comes out low and seductive. “Yes?”

“Let’s clean up your room first.” Yuuri pulls away and immediately moves to pick up the bust sitting in the middle of the bed. He staggers for a moment at its weight. “Why did you even move this onto the bed?”

Behind him, Victor makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t remember,” he whines. “I don’t even remember why I bought it.” It takes all of Yuuri’s resolve not to laugh as he carefully gets off the bed with the heavy bust weighing against his arms and chest. “Yuuri, are you really not going to kiss me? I wouldn’t mind if you’re not ready but if you’re doing this to tease me…”

“And if I am?” Victor makes another frustrated sound (hardly an answer, but there’s something gratifying about it) before finally moving to put away the papers and books on the bed. After settling the bust back into its original position, Yuuri sits back down on the bed and loosely orders the rest of the mess.

As soon as the bed has been cleared off, Makkachin moves onto it with them, settling herself between Victor and Yuuri’s legs. Once she finds a comfortable position, only seconds pass before she’s already snoozing soundly.

Right. That’s another reason that it feels awkward to kiss Victor.

Both of them reach over to pet Makkachin’s fur. She snuffles appreciatively at the affection.

\---

When they finally settle down to sleep, Yuuri turns his back to Victor. For now, he doesn’t think he can sleep properly otherwise.

He yelps when Victor sticks his hands up his shirt.

Thankfully, they come to a rest on his stomach. And not thankfully at all,  _ Victor has his hands underneath Yuuri’s shirt _ .

“Victor!” he hisses. He yelps again when he feels Victor’s chest press against his back. The blankets shift as Victor tries to situate himself without disturbing Makkachin.

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?” The extent to which he can feel the lines and curves of Victor’s body against his is dizzying. He’s not sure he’s going to sleep properly even with his back turned to Victor.

“You promised I could hold you,” Victor teases.

Right. Yuuri grumbles as he settles into Victor’s arms. “S-sure.”

“You don’t sound happy about that at all.”

Yuuri sighs before mumbling, half-sarcastic and half-genuine, “I’m very happy.”

“Really?”

He doesn’t answer.

Behind him, Victor laughs a little and kisses the back of Yuuri’s neck. He shivers at the contact and momentarily regrets not just kissing Victor earlier, awkward mood be damned.

“I’m very happy too.”

Victor sounds so warm and genuine. For once, Yuuri lets himself believe that he might keep Victor by his side forever.

They fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fukuoka date will be next


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They spend the day in Fukuoka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> research and real life obligations and writing and research and editing the whole fic one last time, and then rewriting about 50% of this last chapter bc I thought the first draft was SHIT took a bit ;;; I’m back now

Less changes than Yuuri might have expected, now that it’s clear that he and Victor are dating. Between them, there is still the same banter, the same intimacy, the same skating.

More than anything, Victor is still Victor. In some way, Yuuri had been afraid that Victor would only be his by playing a role. Like he’d suggested himself, that one time on the beach; he would be a lover, yes, but not Victor. He would be infinitely more distant for his proximity.

But he’s still Victor. They’re so many things at once, but they’re still just Victor and Yuuri and it feels so much easier than Yuuri would have ever expected.

\---

Before Sunday, they squeeze in another impromptu date after finding some sparkler fireworks, leftovers from an impulsive group outing during Yurio’s stay at Yu-topia. Victor and Yuuri sneak out (‘ _sneak out_ ’, Victor had said, as though they were a pair of teenagers hooking up past curfew and not two grown adults taking a 10 pm stroll) in the evening to burn through the rest of the sparklers. They find a clear area just outside Yu-topia before each lighting a sparkler and watching them burn out together in comfortable silence.

By the time they’ve burned through the first few sparklers, they’ve been joined by some of the onsen’s patrons. Yuuri ends up helping the Satos’ ten-year-old daughter light a sparkler, watches as she walks back to her moms while stiffly holding out the firework as though afraid of getting burnt. To his side, he can hear Victor talking to Mr. Nakamura, who seems determined to practice his English. Two or three other residents have helped themselves to the sparklers, and the summer air fills up with the fizzling heat and crack of the fireworks.

Yuuri drops his second spent sparkler into a discard pile and bumps his shoulder against Victor’s. Victor hands him one last sparkler and even lights it for him, and they settle back into silence as the small group of onsen patrons burns through the rest of their sparklers.

 _I’ve missed this_ , he realizes. The summer heat, the glow of fireworks, the dimmed lights of Yu-topia near closing hours and the fireflies blinking in and out of air. The warmth and light of Hasetsu all around him, the feeling of his home settling in his chest.

Victor bumps his shoulder, bringing Yuuri out from the sudden wave of nostalgia. “Let’s take a picture,” he says, phone already out and poised for a selfie. He pulls Yuuri close and positions them, pausing to let the camera focus properly before taking a picture. “Do you think Yurio would be angry that we used the rest of these without him?” Victor says, sounding amused at Yurio’s hypothetical anger.

Yuuri snorts out a laugh. “He’ll live.”

The camera clicks and Victor pulls his phone back to look at their picture. He contemplates the image with a smile before angling the screen so that Yuuri can see it too. “What do you think?”

The picture has been framed so that the sparkler in Yuuri’s hand is clearly visible, throwing out a red and yellow glow and illuminating their faces against the evening darkness. Victor is smiling in the image, eyes crinkled and teeth showing from just behind the curved bow of his lips, cheeks tinted a charming shade of red from the heat. It’s a good picture.

“I like it.”

“So do I,” Victor murmurs. “You’re smiling. It’s beautiful, Yuuri.”

He hadn’t even really looked at his own face in the picture. Now he does, and… he doesn’t look bad, but Yuuri can’t see what had made Victor sound so reverent. “Really.”

“You sound like you don’t believe me,” Victor says as he puts away his phone. “But I can swear that there’s nobody in the world with the same charm as you, Yuuri.”

He’s smiling again, the beauty of it quietly stealing Yuuri’s breath away. Victor says that, but surely he’s the one with a charm that nobody else could ever hope to match. After all, Yuuri has spent more than half of his life just trying to get close enough to touch it.

And now here he is, with the warmth of Hasetsu and the warmth of Victor by his side, the two intersecting in a way that he couldn’t have ever imagined before.

\---

Sunday arrives.

\---

“Yuuri. It’s morning.”

Yuuri groans and aimlessly kicks out his foot in protest. “It’s too early,” he tries to say with his face still smushed into his pillow and turned away from the light filtering in through the curtains of his room. (Whether he actually says that, he’s honestly not sure.) Victor laughs, quiet and fond as he shakes Yuuri’s shoulder one last time to wake him up.

 

By 7 am, they’ve boarded the Chikuhi Line from Hasetsu Station. It’s an early Sunday and Hasetsu is quite literally at the end of the line (people don’t end up in Hasetsu unless they want to be there, and fewer and fewer people want to be there these days), so it’s just the two of them in the car. Victor sits next to him anyway.

Yuuri feels like he should be nervous (since he’s actually definitely, with intent, going on a date with Victor), and it’s not like the nerves aren’t there at all. But they’re not overwhelming him, somehow; they’re thrumming somewhere on the edge of his consciousness, but comfortably distant. Mostly, he’s just drowsy. Next to him, Victor is relaxed but alert, silently staring out at the scenery flying by outside the train.

The car fills up as the train gets closer to Fukuoka. Soon, they’re surrounded by salary workers and tourists and teenagers and all other sorts of people, the loud flow of city traffic surrounding and pressing in on them. Yuuri is glad to be out of the crowded car and in Fukuoka after they reach Ohorikoen Station.

 

Being in Fukuoka with Victor is incredible, with experience after experience that Yuuri tries to hoard in his memory. In Ohori Park, it’s running around and watching the birds and petting other people’s dogs; in Fukuoka Castle, it’s trying to give Victor a tour of Fukuoka Castle only to find that Victor had spent the past few days learning more trivia about the Castle than he could possibly ever use, and it’s Victor nearly falling into one of the moats and Yuuri fussing over him; on Fukuoka’s streets, it’s meandering off the main roads for blocks at a time, and Victor asking Yuuri to read the signs for him or trying to read them himself, and Victor taking photos of anything and everything they see.

It’s the moment where Yuuri asks to see the pictures and finds out that at least a dozen are just photos of him—Yuuri looking over a guardrail at Fukuoka Castle, Yuuri with his head craned upwards towards the building tops, Yuuri turning a street corner with his head turned back towards Victor. It’s the moment that Victor says, again, that Yuuri is beautiful and of course he would want to take pictures of Yuuri.

And at lunch, it’s actually flirting with Victor over bowls of tonkotsu ramen and _dear lord, Yuuri can’t believe half the words that came out of his own mouth—_

(And Victor had only looked happier with each ridiculous statement. That was the worst part of it, that Yuuri’s words had made Victor happy and that had immediately spurred Yuuri to blurt out even more embarrassing things.)

But it’s exhausting too. By the time Victor makes them sit down on some benches on the second floor of Canal City Hakata, Yuuri is completely ready to go home and stay in his room for the rest of the evening. Having Victor’s attention so completely on him for an entire day is draining (it’s just the two of them in Fukuoka, after all— Yuuri can’t exactly escape to his room or to ballet practice), so Yuuri’s almost glad for the relative silence that settles between them. It’s the space that he needs, even with Victor.

Victor has insisted on going to Canal City Hakata to shop. While Yuuri can’t really profess any sort of personal interest in shopping and frankly finds the whole concept nerve-wracking, watching Victor excitedly flit from store to store makes the trip worth it. And Canal City Hakata is an impressive place to look at, with its looming red walls, the simultaneously large yet enclosed spaces, the masses of hanging plants lining the handrails, and the canal running through the center of the complex, just beyond where they’re seated.

“Let’s wait a while,” Victor says. And they wait, quiet seconds stretching into minutes. Yuuri closes his eyes after the first minute or so, letting the sounds of the mall around them shift into background noise.

At the hour, Victor suddenly tugs on his sleeve and Yuuri opens his eyes. “It’s starting soon.” Victor stands up and pulls Yuuri with him, guiding him towards the handrail to look down at the canal.

The sounds of strings suddenly echo through Canal City Hakata, a familiar and stirring melody that Yuuri first places as one of Victor’s older programs (‘ _oh, that’s a surprise’_ , Victor mumbles from next to him), then as _Spring_ from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. The water of the canal bubbles once, twice, before a line of fountains suddenly fires large spurts of water up in the air, flying high above their heads before falling to gravity.

“They have an hourly fountain show here. I thought you might want to see it,” Victor explains as the fountains settle into a more relaxed choreography.

“The music is one of your old programs,” Yuuri laughs. “What a coincidence. I actually remember watching you skate to this.”

“And what did you think of it?”

“At the time? … I thought you were amazing.”

The fountains continue their dance, tracing out graceful arcs in time with Vivaldi. After the first dozen measures, Yuuri glances at Victor in hopes of seeing his expression as he watches the fountain show…

… only to find Victor’s eyes on him. Victor hadn’t been watching the fountain show at all beyond that first moment. He’s watching Yuuri instead, an unreadable expression on his face which slips into a weak smile after they lock eyes.

He feels distant. Less like the Victor he’s come to know over the past few months, and more like the untouchable ethereal being that Yuuri had admired for more than a decade. There’s a certain tension to his body and to the undecipherable emotion in his expression.

Just watching Victor is enough to make Yuuri’s heart ache sometimes.

“I wish we could have come to Fukuoka together sooner,” Victor says, finally turning away to look back down at the fountain show, the same distant smile on his lips.

“Earlier in the summer? Or during spring?”

Victor shakes his head. “Even earlier.”

The statement is simple, but the meaning behind Victor’s words is incomprehensible. It doesn’t make sense, somehow coming to Fukuoka with Victor even before spring. Their lives had been too different, and it’s still some kind of miracle that they’ve intersected for as long as they have.

They watch as the fountains send up another arcing burst of water.

“Well… we’re here now. Victor.”

It feels like the wrong answer to a question Victor hadn’t even asked. Victor nods anyway, his expression still distant.

They’re standing together with their hands on the handrail, just centimeters apart, so Yuuri lets his hand bump against Victor’s, places it on top of his, gently interlocks their fingers. The tension drains from Victor’s body and the distance melts away.

 

Their hands stay linked after the fountain show ends and they sit back down on the benches.

“I wasn’t expecting it to be the music to one of my old programs,” Victor sighs exaggeratedly before smiling and pulling one of their shopping bags into his lap. Yuuri watches as Victor rummages around in the bag before pulling out and brandishing a black cat-eared beanie. “This is for you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri blinks. “Huh?”

“I bought it for you because I thought it would look good on you.” Before Yuuri can protest, Victor breaks his grip on Yuuri’s hand to put the beanie on his head.

Yuuri frantically pulls the beanie off his head, only for Victor to snatch it out of his hands and place it back on his head. Victor even takes a few moments to fix Yuuri’s hair, gently smoothing out the parts sticking out from under the beanie. “Victor! When did you even buy that?”

“About three stores ago,” Victor explains, resting his chin on his hands as though in contemplation. “It does look good on you. It’s really cute.” He tilts his head and his lips form that charming heart-shaped smile that Yuuri is still trying to get used to even after months of seeing it,  before he amends his statement. “You’re really cute, Yuuri.”

Yuuri buries his face in his hands.

“I also got something for your parents.” Yuuri shifts his hands just enough to see Victor pulling some smaller bags (one squat and square, the other longer and slim) from one of the other ones. He holds out the bags for Yuuri to take.

Yuuri takes his hands off his face and carefully takes the bags (the long one is actually kind of heavy) and reads the labels. One is from one of the bars they’d passed earlier, the other is from one of the (many) apparel stores they’d checked.

Oh. He really is buying gifts for Yuuri’s parents. It strikes Yuuri again that he’s not just sightseeing with Victor, he’s actually on a date with Victor. Who’s already buying gifts for his parents. And picking out clothes for him. Yuuri self-consciously touches one of the ears on the beanie and wonders if he really does look good in it.

“And when did you buy these?” Yuuri asks as he glances inside the bags; one contains a bowtie with a blue polka dot pattern, and the other contains a wrapped-up bottle of sake. While Yuuri can imagine that Victor had bought the bowtie during one of the few times he had been distracted by trying on clothes, he can’t figure out when Victor had found the time to order the bottle of sake.

“That’s a secret.” Victor presses a finger to his lips, grinning. “Do you think your parents would like these?”

Yuuri takes a moment to consider. “Dad’s worn that same bowtie since I was ten, and Mom always orders the onsen’s sake herself.”

“Oh.”

He smiles and hands the bags back to Victor. “They’d love these though. Thank you.” Victor graciously takes the bags and puts them back away.

Suddenly, Victor pulls Yuuri into a tight hug. Yuuri startles before letting himself lean into the hug, pressing his face into Victor’s shoulder and loosely grabbing the front of his shirt. (He tries to ignore how incredibly public the gesture is, seated on the mall benches as they are. Tries to figure out why Victor is doing this now, or if Victor even has a reason to hold him.)

They stay like that for a few seconds before Victor loosens his grasp. Still, neither of them hurry to move apart; Yuuri can practically feel warmth radiating from where Victor’s hands have come to rest on his waist.

“We should go get an early dinner,” Victor says, finally pulling away completely.

“Yeah.” Yuuri gathers some of their bags before getting up and offering a hand to Victor. “Let’s go.”

 

Before finding a place in Canal City Hakata to eat dinner, Yuuri insists on stopping by another store and buying Victor a jacket, since he can’t help but feel guilty if Victor spends money on him without anything in return, and since the jacket looks good on him, emphasizing the shape of his shoulders and the trimness of his waist. (Not that finding clothes that look good on Victor is really difficult— going shopping with Victor has made Yuuri realize that almost everything looks good on Victor because he’s _Victor_.)

Still, Yuuri feels extremely flustered when Victor insists on immediately wearing the jacket, even though it’s warm outside and the jacket is more suited for fall. Seeing Victor wear a jacket that Yuuri had bought makes him feel like he’s overstepped his bounds, somehow. They’re acting too much like lovers.

But that’s exactly what they are, for now. Remembering that fills Yuuri with an overwhelming happiness, and that’s the only excuse he has for suddenly pulling Victor into another hug just after they finish eating dinner.

\---

They spend their last hour in Fukuoka wandering the streets again.

On the bridge over Naka River, they pass a woman and her poodle and Victor pushes Yuuri to ask her if they can pet the poodle, and why didn’t they bring Makkachin to Fukuoka? Makkachin would have loved Fukuoka and she’s well-behaved enough that the train ride wouldn’t have been an issue. They should have brought Makkachin to Fukuoka—

Yuuri and the woman share a somewhat exasperated glance as Victor fawns over the poodle.

Afterwards, they stand together and look out at the river from the bridge. Victor leans on the bridge’s railing, one hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, now set low in the sky and shining light off of the river and the thin silver strands of Victor’s hair. A light breeze pulls at Victor’s hair and the jacket, and Victor’s profile cuts a striking figure in the early evening light.

“Yuuri?” Yuuri startles and his face grows warm. His blush deepens when Victor smiles and coyly tilts his head, and it feels distinctly unfair that he can throw Yuuri off so easily. “You’re staring.”

“Oh, sorry,” Yuuri mutters, sheepishly scratching the side of his neck. “We should probably get to the station soon.” Victor nods, but neither of them make a move to leave. They continue to stare out at the river.

Victor leans against Yuuri’s arm. “Fukuoka was great, but…” Victor trails off, as though not sure if he should continue. His hand drifts to rest on top of Yuuri’s. “I think I still preferred Hasetsu.”

“Really? How come?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a charming place. Hasetsu is warm. Friendly.” Victor hums for a moment, his fingers moving to trace circles on the back of Yuuri’s hand. “It’s where you grew up. I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t part of it. But sometimes it feels like home, especially at the beach.” A pause. “Somebody could stay their whole life and still be happy.”

 _Somebody like you_? Yuuri wants to ask, but of course not. Sometimes it seems like Victor has always been a part of Hasetsu, but Yuuri can’t imagine that he’ll always be happy to be there.

“Well, we should head to the train then,” Yuuri mumbles. “We’ll get back to Hasetsu sooner.” The back of his hand feels ticklish as Victor keeps aimlessly drawing on it. “Victor, what are you doing with my hand?”

“Wait, I’m going to write something,” Victor chirps, “so hold still.”

“Victor,” Yuuri laughs, resisting the urge to scratch the back of his hand. “Okay. What are you writing?”

“You’ll have to guess. I’m not going to guarantee that it’ll be in English either.”

“Victor, I can’t tell what you’re writing if it’s in Russian. And we should go soon.” Ignoring him, Victor traces out a series of furigana characters on the back of Yuuri’s hand, which Yuuri reads as Victor writes.

“ _Fu_ … _ku_ … Fukuoka?” Victor nods, seemingly happy that he’s written the letters correctly, and then begins writing out another series of characters. “ _Ka_ … _tsu_ … _ki_ … That’s just my name. Katsuki Yuuri.” And another. “ _Ma_ … Makkachin? In furigana?” Victor shrugs, and then he’s writing even more on the back of Yuuri’s hand.

“ _A_ … _i_ … ” Yuuri’s breath stops as Victor finishes tracing the rest of the characters. “Victor, that’s…”

Victor pulls his hand away, blinks and raises a hand to shield his eyes as a strong gust of wind suddenly begins blowing over the bridge. “Did I write it wrong?” Yuuri shakes his head. “Is it too much?”

“A bit. Usually you wouldn’t put it like that,” Yuuri explains, still feeling short of breath. He places his hands over his cheeks ( _god, they’re warm_ ) and shivers a bit in the wind. “That’s… a really strong way of putting it.”

“Then it’s fine. My feelings are really strong.”

“That’s still…” Yuuri sighs, taking a moment to fix his hat as the wind dies down. “Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” It should be obvious why he wouldn’t be sure, so obvious that Yuuri would almost feel pathetic outlining every single insecurity he has about Victor. Even if it’s the second time that Victor has confirmed his love, there isn’t any way that Yuuri feels comfortable just accepting it.

Instead, he just places his hand on top of Victor’s, which automatically turns to press their palms together. “Yuuri, do you need me to say it out loud instead?”

Yuuri gulps. “You don’t have to. I think I get it. We really should go.”

They don’t. They spend another few minutes on the bridge together, looking out at Naka River. Yuuri glances at Victor and he feels it again, that urge to kiss Victor and bring the two of them closer together, even closer to a lasting love. He hasn’t worked up the courage to try and act on it since the night they had planned their trip, but the urge to be closer never really leaves no matter how much Yuuri tries to push it down or ignore it. It’s always there, sitting in the back of his mind whenever he sees or touches Victor.

Finally though, they leave the bridge and begin the slow walk towards the station.

\---

They leave Fukuoka. Back to the end of the line, to Hasetsu and its understated small town beauty, where they will skate together until the end of the Grand Prix Series.

The train car steadily empties as they get further and further from the city. Soon, it’s just the two of them, sitting together and looking out towards the sea. Hasetsu should already be visible in the distance, but the setting sun on the horizon obscures the details of the peninsula in stark shadow. Evening light scatters off the sea, illuminating the water and painting the train car in subdued tones of orange and yellow. Even the sound of the train gently rattling around them sounds muted, and Yuuri pretends that he can somehow hear the waves over it.

“Let’s go to Fukuoka again sometime, Yuuri. We’ll stay a few nights and we’ll tour the rest of the city. And we’ll bring Makkachin this time.”

“When?” Yuuri yawns, suddenly tired. “We’ll be too busy preparing for the Grand Prix to take more days off.“ He snorts when Victor yawns (elegantly, somehow) right after him.

“Sometime after that then.”

The breath catches in Yuuri’s throat. “Really?”

“Of course.” Victor smiles, as though they’ll have all the time in the world.

And Yuuri quietly realizes that that’s what he wants. He wants the time that God will let him have and more. He wants everything Victor will give him and more.

Victor’s hand reaches for his and Yuuri turns his palm upwards to meet it. The warmth of Victor’s palm against his own anchors Yuuri to the moment as he lets his mind wander. He distantly registers the soothing cadence of Victor’s voice as he says something else now, about everything in Fukuoka that they hadn’t seen, then on to Nagasaki, Okinawa, Tokyo, a whole tour of Japan’s cities. His voice is wistful as he says that someday after that, he’ll bring Yuuri to St. Petersburg. Moscow. The rest of Russia. Sweet promises half-whispered and half-heard in the sunset-illuminated train car, words that are heavy and insubstantial all at once.

The train carries them back to Hasetsu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the first time I’ve ever written something (complete) with multiple chapters?? like, wow it took a month longer than it should have but! I did it! ahhhhh ;;  
> since I didn’t really plan this out before writing it, it may have turned out a little aimless. I hope it was enjoyable all the same. I might actually try to write something even more aimless next time lmao
> 
> shout at/w me on tumblr @maladroitcore


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